Miproe:Reapers
by Yamino Tenshi 202
Summary: Alfred looked over at England. "Your fate is in my hands. And so I wash them... And wash them... And wash them..." Sequel to Miproe.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! It is 12:42 PM 27 August 2011! Continuing!**

**If you are continuing from "Miproe", thank you very much for doing so! *bows***

**This arc will focus quite a bit on America, but it will probably be like "Miproe", where it deviated to another character, pairing, and arc.**

**This is the "Reapers" arc. It starts off quite nicely.**

**Notes:**

**America has been retrieved.**

**Feliciano is with our Nation friends.**

**Everyone is kind of freaked out by that shadowy figure that killed the demons.**

**Since one reviewer got annoyed with the random ass languages, I will refrain from most of the random languages. Sorry for those of you that enjoyed them, but that shot me down. I can take criticism, but criticism over something that doesn't seem like that big of a deal... Well, to me, it wasn't. I've seen more languages in other fanfics, but oh well...**

**There are other beings besides Notions, though they don't share the same responsibilities of taking care of Nations as the Notions do. Be prepared for strange continuity.**

**If someone hasn't seen the Captain America movie yet, THERE IS SOMETHING OF A SPOILER!**

**Notes are done. Let's get started!**

**EDIT: 7:04 PM 3 October 2011: At around 4:30 this afternoon, I was writing more of this story. About 5 minutes ago, I lost what I had typed. **

**Colonial Love 4, the original of this chapter, all gone... I think I have anxiety issues. I also lost one doujin that I got today, but that can be recovered, but I am now severely, SEVERELY PISSED OFF. I tried getting my other 57 files (which included other files, such as homework, pictures, and other things that I loved), but to no avail.**

**SHIT.**

**Please accept this means of escape for my emotions.**

_Prologue_

_Little Alfred played in the snow, his rump firm against the frozen ground. It was white and clean and so lovely. _

_He smiled over at his parents._

_Arthur came over. The seven-year-old sat down next to his three-year-old brother and they made a miniature snow fort._

_"Very good."_

_Alfred and Arthur both looked up and smiled. _

_"PAPA!" _

_But of course._

_Papa reached for Arthur and Alfred._

_Mama came out with two mugs of hot milk with chocolate in it._

_She made sure that Arthur wouldn't burn himself with his drink._

_Not with Alfred, though he never burned himself._

_Papa kissed Alfred's cheeks, with little praises of how proud he was of his little prince._

_Whenever his own magic turned Alfred into a girl, Papa would call him his princess and dress him up so pretty that Alfred would go to his big brothers and they would play around, saying that one of them would marry her when she was a big girl. Arthur would yell and say that Azrael and he would stay together so that they would always have each other._

_Mama gave kisses to Arthur's cheeks, let Arthur try on her things when he was a girl, sang to Arthur..._

_So did everyone else..._

_Arthur was loved._

_He was perfect._

_That's what Alfred couldn't understand._

_Why did Arthur care about him so much?_

Chapter 1: Day Care

Alfred blinked the sleep from his eyes, grabbing onto a nearby source of warmth.

The warmth sighed and so America pulled away, pouting and crying out quietly when he was stopped mid-motion.

He looked at his captor. He recognized the pale face.

England, asleep, looked quite peaceful, his face empty of any stress that he normally showed. He looked youthful, somewhat angel-like. Immediately, it made Alfred think of his biological brother, Arthur.

He hummed quietly to himself.

"... America..." England said in his sleep.

_'England's cute when he wants to be,'_ thought Alfred.

"Did you wet the bed again...?"

… Scratch that.

America struggled out of England's hold, rolling away and off the bed, landing on his rump. He pouted. Arthur, from what little memories he had, was always like this. He would always hold his hand when they walked together, try to keep him away from anything dirty...

He was Arthur's little doll, his perfect angel.

…

And then...

…

He ruined everything.

America shook his thoughts away with shaking his head. No! He had received a new life, from Merciful God, and he would do right by this.

He would definitely be Arthur's hero this time for sure.

Even with that black shadow inside of his body.

He would be the world's hero.

He stood, ignoring the pain in his back, and went to put clothes on, a simple outfit of shorts, suspenders and a white dress shirt.

_I'm hungry_.

"Don't worry. Me, too."

Feliciano rubbed his eyes, removing the sleep from them. He wondered why he woke up so early. Clad only in his pants and underwear, he cuddled closer to the German that took up most of the space in his bed.

Ludwig looked... calm... Not angry, like Feliciano remembered him being a lot of the time.

Yes, Feliciano had gaps in his memories too. Just like Uriel, his guardian Notion, had told him he would have.

He was glad that he remembered Ludwig... He was happy.

A knock came at the door. A small knock.

"Buon giorno?"

Feliciano saw the door open. In came Alfred, his eyes round, aware, and bright.

"Good morning."

Feliciano clambered off of the bed, leaving the nice warmth of the tall blond to grab his small shirt from last night and slipped it on. The "Repubblica veneziana 1861" showed itself proudly on his shirt, letting him recall the last time that he was independent from his brother.

1861.

"Wanna help me make breakfast?"

"Va bene~"

Canada rubbed his eyes, trying to get the sleep to leave them. An arm slipped down from around his chest and down to his waist as he sat up. Grabbing his glasses, Mathieu looked down at Francis, smiling.

_It had been after the Third World War. France and Canada had begun a romantic relationship, a committed relationship. Almost unprecedented for Nations, as it did not secure any political, economic, or industrial ties._

_However, one day, France decided that they had needed to clear something up first._

"_... Canada... I have to tell you something. Something important."_

"_Yes?"_

"_... I had... relations with your brother..."_

"_...like "sexual" relations?"_

"_Oui."_

"_Oh." Canada swallowed. "Is that why you're with me, because I look like-"_

"_No! Non, mon amour, non... I still saw you as my Canada, mon petit enfant... When you grew up... I tried so hard not to see you that way, to see you as the beautiful man you are. It's like a father resisting an adopted daughter's beauty... It's difficult." A gentle kiss to his lips and Canada felt, rather than saw, because his eyes were closed, the Frenchman's head rest on his shoulder._

"_I want to devour you, Mathieu. I want to keep you with me for eternity... America was my quick replacement for you..." Canada was shaking. **Alfred** was taking **his** place? France thought of **him** when he had sex with **America**?_

"_Did he know?"_

"_He was aware..."_

"_... but?"_

"_... mais, il... He thinks himself disgusting. When we would copulate, he would ask me if I thought of him as a quick fix, an easy fuck, a prostitute... He would cry, Canada, that people loved you much more than he... He's so alone, Canada..."_

_Canada pondered. "... So you would have sex with him in order to help him with that and Alfred would have sex with you to keep you from jumping me..."_

"_Yes."_

"_Vous êtes bête." You are an idiot._

_Kisses never seemed so sweet._

"_We'll help America... If he's like that, we'll fix it."_

_Life never seemed so easy._

The smell of maple syrup interrupted Mathieu's daydream. He got dressed, as he had taken a shower last night to get the grime and blood off of him, and headed downstairs.

Mathieu stared at the two children making breakfast.

"Wow... Pancakes."

"Nom!"

"Buon giorno~!"

Gilbert came down in loose pants and a regular t-shirt. He could feel the love bites under his shirt, hidden but burning. Russia had wanted to do slightly naughty things last night.

"_Vanya." The harsh whisper excited Ivan very much._

"_Hmm?" He giggled, licking the milky skin that was so warm unlike his own. He could hear the rapid heartbeat of the one beneath him._

"_Don't."_

"_Why?"_

_Annoyed eyes, that were blue in this lack of light strangely, stared at his own. "What happened to America today... I can't..."_

_Vanya smiled sadly. "It happened to me as well. The Mongols..." His violet eyes grew dark, but he smiled wider. "I'm happy that you are mine... and that I am yours, Gilbert."_

_Prussia smirked. "Of course. If you belong to me, you are blessed."_

_That earned him marks that would last for a while._

_He moaned, neither being so aroused that they would need to finish each other off. "I'm tired, Russia."_

"_Sleep, podsolnechnik."_

He yawned, seeing that the others were getting up and following him down. "Guten Morgen!"

"Good morning."

"Bonjour~"

"Ohayo gozaimasu."

Russia came out smiling, as though he was still dreaming. "Good morning, Prussia."

Everyone was alerted by a small crash in the kitchen. All of the Nations ran down stairs, rushing quickly as they were very concerned about a certain little American.

"Mathieu! I want to make the pancakes!"

"No, Alfred."

"Mateo, can you help me make the _tiramisu_?"

The Nations came face to face with two children and a twenty-year-old on the floor, faces down. The two North Americans and Italian began to laugh.

"Matt! Pancake!" Canada laughed, picking America up as Alfred began to repeat the words in a youthful frenzy. "Why aren't you making pancakes if I can't?"

"I'll make them, just calm down." America giggled, loving how his brother was holding him.

"Ve~ Buon giorno, fratello!" Italy ran to his brother and smiled so happily that Romano just picked him up and began to ask him things in Italian, like how he got there, when he got there, and where did he sleep, receiving answers like, Uriel brought him, he got there very late at night, and that he slept with Germany.

The countries took places in the kitchen, mixing things, cooking, though Arthur was given the task of taking care of Alfred.

Arthur sat in the living room, watching Alfred play with some of his toys, little Jacob's ladders and blocks arranged into a castle with bridges and little toy people that began to move around the castle.

"Arthur, play with me please."

Arthur got down from his seat on the couch to sit on the floor, noticing that Alfred was smaller than him even when they were sitting down on the carpet. "What are we playing?"

Alfred pouted for a moment. "I'm just playing." His little toy prince came up to the princess' tower and and began to kiss her hand with Alfred providing little kissing noises. He stood up and began to put the toys away.

"I thought you wanted me to play with you, America." England chuckled lightly, but stopped when he saw Alfred, after putting the toys in a box and putting them in a corner of the living room, pull a box from a little locked cupboard of the entertainment center where the American's television was. It was the box that he had made. The box he had broken his arm for.

America brought the box and sat next to England, beginning to open it. Out he pulled little soldiers. They were simplistic; spheres for heads, cylindrical bodies and hats. Arthur froze and was slow in taking one soldier from the child in front of him.

"You be Colonel... Um... Beelz! Beelz!" Alfred said excitedly, coming up with a random name for Arthur's character, then looking to his own. "I'm Foot Soldier... Robert Sands!"

Arthur just looked at the toy soldier, stroking the painted wood. It was repainted, he could tell. With delicate strokes of a horse hair paintbrush, the little toy was redecorated and appeared to be handled well, considering that it was rather old for a toy. Over four hundred years old already.

"Alfred," Arthur whispered. Oh God, was his voice breaking? "How long have you had this?"

"Since forever!" Alfred smiled. "I love it and all the other soldiers a lot!"

"May... May I ask why?"

Alfred pouted again, thoughtfully. "You gave them to me, and I love you lots! I love anything you gave me!" Alfred smiled. He looked down at his "foot soldier."

He held it up to Arthur's "colonel." "'I missed you a lot, England,' is what America wants to say. He says, 'I always missed you and I wanted to you come visit me. I love you lots, England, more than anyone else.'"

Arthur just stared. That was how America felt? This entire time?

"England wants to say," Arthur began. "'I missed you, America.'" He swallowed. "'I missed you so much and I'm sorry that I didn't see you more often.'" The wetness in his eyes had to be dust from the box. It was so old and dusty and-

"England... are you crying?" Alfred was touching the other's cheeks, the tears coming off on them and leaving their salty mark on his little fingers.

Arthur just sat, unresponsive. His America had always loved him, had never ever wanted him to leave... But that was a lie. America had hated him, wanted him to leave.

"England wants to ask if you're telling the truth," Arthur said mechanically, moving his soldier to Alfred's. The words just came out of his mouth instantaneously. Whether he had meant to say them, it no longer mattered. He had said what had begun to plague his mind when Alfred had brought out the box of wooden soldiers.

Alfred pouted, this time in sadness. "Yes, yes I am. America loves you lots. A lot, a lot." He forgot his soldier on the floor. He crawled over to England's lap and sat there, his body against England's torso because he was very small. His arms couldn't even fit all the way around the other to give him a good hug. He was too small to do that, but he nuzzled the other's chest and hummed softly. "America loves you a lot. He never forgot you and he always wanted you to come back, but you never did."

Arthur felt his own chest getting wet and he looked down. Alfred was gazing up at him, fat pretty tears falling into the Briton's shirt after coming out of his eyes, living on his cheek in a curve, and dying as they fell off of his chin. He swallowed. "Really, now?"

"Yes." Alfred was so serious and almost exasperated, but almost as though he had always wanted to say these words. "America loves you so much," he said, reaching up a bit with his body. Arthur felt the little source of warmth and love in his lap move and suddenly little kisses were given to his cheeks, taking away some of salty liquid from his skin. He shivered a bit, feeling nostalgic from the kisses, the love, the hugs... He was loved again... And he loved being loved...

England held the child to his body, forgetting his own toy soldier, and began to give kisses to the child's forehead, his hair, anything on his head. Anything that would remind him that this was real.

This America loved him and he cared about him and wouldn't leave him.

He was happy.

"Igirisu-san?"

"Angleterre, Etats-Unis, why are you two crying?"

England and America turned to see France and Japan looking at them with concern. The two, still hugging each other, stood up and now America was in England's arms, held securely.

"Is breakfast ready?" England asked, America hiding his face in the older man's shirt in embarrassment.

"Oui, we have crêpes, pancakes, some stew, eggs, sausage, and some cakes," France explained.

"I'll go get your plates ready," Japan said, going back to the kitchen with a pale blush on his cheek.

England began to walk towards the bathroom, America in his arms, in order to wash his face. "We'll go to the lavatory."

France watched England's back as the younger nation walked with his former colony in his grasp. Regret.

Breakfast was uneventful, only with Alfred having dropped some syrupy pancake on the floor and Arthur helping him clean it up.

After the meal, Alfred asked if they could all watch **Captain America**, a 2011 film. Some of the nations went to take a nap, while Alfred, Arthur, Mathieu, Francis, Kiku, and Yao watched the movie. The remaining nations, Prussia, Russia, and Germany, went out to buy some groceries, as they had gone through quite a bit of food that morning. The child was so into the film, holding a little Captain America action figure in superhero poses and cheering when Steve Rogers gained super strength from the German doctor's formula and became the Captain, when Steve would save the Allied soldiers. He booed when Johann Schmidt, the villain, attacked the American.

And he was very quiet when Steve Rogers and the British character Peggy Carter were together.

"Tu es très silent, non, Amerique?" Francis asked, surprised by the child's silence during those parts. They were romantic and sentimental, nothing a child could fully grasp.

"The English lady is very pretty and Steve likes her. We have to be quiet." Alfred put his finger to his lips and then turned his attention back to the screen.

"Do you like the English, America?" Mathieu said, already knowing the answer, but never having heard it from the American as an adult, he was curious.

"I love England lots!" Alfred said smiling and then rushing to climb into Arthur's lap. The Briton wrapped his arms around the child and smiled.

"Let's keep watching the film, _cariad_."

Kiku smiled at the affection that the Brit was showing. He felt a pang of jealousy.

"_There you go, Riben! Some dumplings for you-aru!"_

"_Arigato... Gege..._

"_You're welcome, didi!"_

The Japanese man leaned unconsciously against Yao, who didn't move, as it wasn't a major bother to him anyway.

The film went on, Alfred's cheers and boos very quiet to please his caretaker.

At the end of the movie, Alfred had tears going down his face that went unnoticed.

"Why don't the American and English lady live happy ever after?"

"What?"

"Nuffin..."

Feliciano and Lovino lay on the bed in the guest room that the older Italian and his lover were staying at. Spain was already deep into his nap, Lovino cuddling Feliciano in between their larger bodies. Lovino and Feliciano began to talk.

"Fratellone?"

"What, Feli?"

"Do you love me?"

Lovino stared down at his brother. His amber, almost golden honey, eyes were gazing up innocently at the older one. His curl was moving gently as Lovino and Antonio were breathing in and out.

"Of course, I do, fratellino." He kissed the child's forehead. "Ti amo cosi tanto."

Feli smiled. "I'm so happy, fratello!" He yawned, snuggling against his brothers' bodies. "Ti amo, Lovino." He turned to Antonio, whom he gave a kiss to on the cheek. "Te amo, Antonio."

The child fell asleep.

Lovino stared at the ceiling.

_1861_

"_I hate you, Feliciano!" He spit blood out onto the floor._

_Veneziano stood above him. His eyes were cold, but hurt was apparent. "Fratello... I know you do."_

_Another pain went through Romano as the siege outside continued. "I fucking hate you..."_

_The northern Italian lowered his head. "Uriel... please... Fratello. I was only doing what Uriel told me to do."_

"_Who the fuck is that?"_

_Veneziano smiled, getting onto his knees in front of his captive brother. "Uriel is a wonderful angel, an angel that will restore the Italian Empire to glory, one day."_

_One day..._

'_Dio mio._' Lovino sat up.

He recalled seeing a person that seemed to have wings...

Hitler kissing their hand...

Angelic, chaotic face...

Uriel had started WWII.

Alfred sat outside. Everyone had gone to sleep with a late lunch/early dinner to fill their bellies. He swung on his hammock and looked up to the moon.

The moon was so pale and pretty. He loved it. It reminded him of his brothers.

Gabriel, Simiel, Orifiel... Michael...

Then it reminded him of England.

The one he gave his all for.

Alfred shivered and turned a bit, unfolding a quilt that he had brought out with him. Covering himself, he snuggled in towards himself.

_Daddy... I wonder where you are right now. I bet you are somewhere nice and cold... Yeah..._

_I miss you..._

He fell asleep, never noticing in his slumber of the cold-lipped kiss that an apparition gave him on his forehead as he slept.

16 November 2011 – 6:24 PM

1) Yeah... Alfred''s mother didn't really connect with him, or any of her children. Alfred's dad adores him. I hope I can represent that clearly.

2) The use of Arthur, England, and brother are separated by Alfred. I'm going to have to start calling Arthur by his Sanskrit or his Angel name...

3) Please keep in mind that this has USxUK in it. Or UKxUS... Either one.

4) "Repubblica veneziana 1861" - As mentioned in **Miproe**, the Unification of Italy took place in 1861. When I was in Italy this summer in Venice, I saw many signs that said "Repubblica veneziana 1861-2011". A lot of my friends were confused and I told them that the major cities of Italy used to be little republics, like Venice was. I'm guessing that it was to have a little Republic State of Venice.

5) GASP. RELATIONSHIP! Franada! I picture their relationship would be seen from France's perspective almost as pedophilia, considering he raised Mattie. Mathieu has had feelings of some nature and they have grown over time. The father and adopted daughter metaphor came from another fanfic from another fandom that I loved. Oh, my YuGiOh days... *tear*

6) PRE-ESTABLISHED RUSSIA X PRUSSIA! Podsolnechnik – Russian - Sunflower

7) Uriel - (namesake of Notion of Potential/Instruction) - Archangel of Light, Light of God; God sent Uriel to question the prophet Ezra

I made Uriel Italy's guardian, just like Azrael (Alfred) had been England and China's guardian at some point, because of Italy's happiness being a light for his allies. This was proven by the Hetalia movie, but that stuff never happened in this fanfiction.

8) America and England... (sigh) Touching moment between the two tsunderes, yes? Or a tsun and yan? Who knows? ;)

9) Igirisu = Japanese = England; Angleterre, Etats-Unis = French = England, United States (of America)

10) CAPTAIN AMERICA KICKS ASS!

11) Riben = Chinese (not sure if Mandarin or Cantonese) = Japan; Gege = Chinese = Older brother; Didi = Chinese = Little brother

12) Uriel, being the Notion of Potential, helps the growth of empires. He seized a chance with the Third Reich.

13) Gabriel, Sifiel, Orifiel – Michael and Azrael's older brothers. They are Spirits, personifications of (respectively) Protection, Teaching, and Care.


	2. LIAR

**Hey! It is 8:41 AM 10 December 2011! Continuing!**

**Thank you to the people that read/reviewed!**

**The names of future chapters come from a sniping game.**

**NOTE: 29 December 2011 – Spoilers for the 1999 film SLEEPY HOLLOW and the 2007 ******film****** THE SUICIDE SONG. I own neither.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 2 : Liar<p>

Arthur went outside. America hadn't been inside when he woke up this morning. Perhaps...

"England?" Arthur turned and saw Alfred on the hammock outside his house, swinging his little feet. Well, not as little as yesterday. The tiny nation was now about 9 years old, only about a meter or so in height, but average for an American his age.

"Good morning, poppet." He walked over and held the child close. America wrapped his arms around England's neck, latching onto the island nation.

"Arthur, can I sing a song to wake up the day?"

He chuckled at the young boy's speech. "Of course."

"It's in French, Canadian, really."

Arthur sighed. Of course, the Frog always did have more skill in music and he had made sure that Alfred had known that when he was still an uncertain colony of Arthur's, yet the child stayed with him.

"All right. Let's hear it."

Alfred closed his eyes, kicking his feet over the edge of the hammock. Arthur placed his feet on the ground and pushed back, seeing that Alfred probably wanted to swing as he sang.

_Alors tu vois, comme tout se mêle  
>Et du cœur à tes lèvres, je deviens un casse-tête<br>Ton rire me crie de le lâcher  
>Avant de perdre prise et d'abandonner<em>

Arthur was strangely comforted by what seemed to be a love song. Alfred always sang a plethora of love songs. From the little French he knew (or cared to learn for that matter), it seemed to be a person who was absolutely in love, who was almost afraid to keep the other too close in case of scaring him away... If only he had done that.

Not that he was in love with America, but... Maybe... They could have parted on better terms.

Alfred didn't pick up on Arthur's distress, but he continued to sing, seeing how it made the Briton relax a bit.

_Et on se prend la main, comme des enfants  
>Le bonheur aux lèvres, un peu naïvement<br>Et on marche ensemble, d'un pas décidé  
>Alors que nos têtes nous crient de tout arrêter<em>

Arthur tilted his head, his cheek on Alfred's head, nuzzling the wheat golden hair. The person was loved by their love like one would a child. How sad.

_Il m'aime encore, et toi, tu t'aimes un peu plus fort  
>Mais il m'aime encore, et moi, je t'aime un peu plus fort<br>Et malgré ça, il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort  
>Mais il m'aime encore, et moi, je t'aime un peu plus fort<em>

Alfred yawned a bit, cuddling against Arthur. "Arthur, I love you lots."

Arthur felt warmth fill his cheeks. He was loved. "I love you, too, Alfred."

* * *

><p>The two came inside later, Alfred babbling about a dream that he had, a man in uniform kissing him on the head.<p>

"Bonjour, Angleterre!" Francis greeted as they walked into the kitchen, setting down a platter of crêpes. All of the nations repeated the previous day's actions by making a bit of everything.

As they sat down to eat, Mathieu looked over at Alfred. "Are you okay, Al?"

The child looked up. "Huh?"

"You don't look so good..." Sure enough, Arthur saw, turning to his right where the child nation sat, the little American's cheeks were pink and his eyes looked... stressed. However, it didn't seem to be sickness or fatigue... It seemed to be annoyance.

"Alfred, do you need to lie down?" The Englishman felt worried now. The last time that he could remember seeing Alfred like this was...

"I don't know..." The American reached out to his former master and was reached for in return. "My head..."

"Does your head hurt?" Arthur pressed his hand against the child's forehead. It was warm.

"A little... It's really loud in here."

The Briton held the child close and did not notice how America smirked at Canada a bit darkly. He didn't notice Canada's expression either.

* * *

><p>When America went up to take a nap - "I'm sleepy and I kinda wanna be alone for a little bit, okay?" -, the other nations sat down in the living room to watch a film. At random, the 1999 film <strong>Sleepy Hollow<strong> was chosen.

The strangeness of the American folk-tale was... disturbing. Canada had pointed it out to be one of America's favourites, but a horror film? Well, with his saviour complex, of course, but... a ghost?

"Ghosts? What ever made you think that ghosts scare him?" The Canadian looked aloof about the situation, as though it made no difference what scared his brother or not. Johnny Depp fell asleep as his character of Ichabod Crane dreamt of his childhood.

Japan looked thoughtful. "Whenever America-san and I would watch films, ghosts seemed to frighten him-"

"Yeah, what else did he say or do? I would love to know!" Canada stared at the television, watching the child Ichabod go into a torture chamber. Suddenly, his mother came out bloody from an iron maiden and-

"Do you hate Alfred that much?" France asked, trying to soothe his steaming lover.

"I..." Canada sighed, turning to the European. "Why didn't he tell me anything? We're supposed to be brothers. Even if he's this ancient spirit, he could have-"

"What could I tell you?"

All turned to see the ethereal, almost frightening form of Azrael. His black wings were wrapped around him, almost like a cloak. His figure seemed a bit more gaunt, which was strange of America's figure, though perhaps that was how his form as Azrael appeared.

"I ask, _Kanata,_ what could I tell you?" Using the tribal name, the Notion approached his pseudo-brother. The television screen flickered a bit before going back to normal.

The North American swallowed. "You could have told me what you were..."

"Would you have believed me?"

Silence.

For no one could have believed the story.

"I would have!" piped up Veneziano, who watched the film with wide-interested eyes.

Azrael turned to the small nation. "Child, you're still innocent. You trust, much unlike myself, who, in heart, is not much older."

The Italian tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

The Notion dismissed his attention to his brother, who was offended by the action, but could not really protest, fearful of the black-winged character. The only things with black wings, Canada had been told, were bats, ravens, and demons.

"I was raised in a fairy tale," Azrael began. "I knew not of night time, outside, or movement. I was restrained at all times, for the first two years of my physical life, a total of 150 years. I was only needed for organs, not for being part of my parents small group of progeny, but for my heart-" He pointed to his own body as he recited the list of organs that had always been heard of from observations where the nurses would change him, move his arms and legs at times, and prod and poke him to see the health of his organs. "- lungs, liver, and kidneys, necessary things for the body."

Azrael paused, sighing. The Nations could feel the... resentfulness in his voice. How could a parent allow their child to be imprisoned in such a way?

Continuing... "Two years only, because my youngest older brother was wandering the halls of our home and found a room with this child with such a pathetic body inside. He had been told that his younger brother had been stillborn, leaving him to gather interest in other things, such as magic.

"That same day, the King and Queen, our family's masters, had come to see the condition I was in. They did not expect to see my brother there, but they did realise that I could not be hidden any longer."

Azrael patted the child's heard. "You were born from the water, weren't you, Venezia?"

Italy looked up. "_Si._ I heard many voices... hateful voices. They hated the Romans, Germans, Hungarians, French... they hated everyone... and then they prayed for a place to live, where those people they hated couldn't bother them any more... and I was born in the swamps, but it was very warm because of the Sun..." Italy wrapped his arms around himself. "... and I was loved by my people."

Azrael smiled inquisitively. "Has the Sun always been so warm? The first day I was out of the room was the first day I saw the Sun. It's always been bright and cheerful..." Azrael closed his eyes, memories filling his body with warmth.

"Arthur made sure to let me keep my innocence. Even after the rape and the surgeries – too many to count – he would bring me toys, tell me stories, take me outside..." Tears were making their way down his cheeks, yet the Nations could tell that the old one did not want comfort. The tears were his affirmation that all of those memories, every emotion, thought, touch, it was all real.

"I'm still young at heart. I still have foolish hopes, dreams..." Azrael smiled, his eyes closed in happiness. "That's why I say that you and my other self, the one napping upstairs, are the same. I've never grown up and you are still young; we are the same."

Azrael stood, looking at the Nations, his eyes stopping on England.

"You were once that way, too, Albion."

France shifted slightly in his seat. England stared at the Notion, emerald staring at sapphire, and the Briton could tell that those eyes seemed familiar, that those words could be taken as truth.

"I don't remember you at all."

Azrael smirked.

"Still as cocky as Alba, snotty as Cymru, and prideful as Eire..."

England's eyes widened and he stood up quickly.

"What-?"

The Notion was gone.

* * *

><p>Alfred opened his eyes, whimpering a bit as he was drawn out of slumber by nothing.<p>

He heard something downstairs.

It was England's voice.

"What-?"

England was worried... He should go fix that.

* * *

><p>"Arfur?" Arthur looked up as small steps made their way down the stairs. At the bottom stood little Alfred... Azrael...<p>

"Yes, Alfred?"

The child walked over and wrapped his arms around Arthur's legs. "You sounded worried and scared and..." His lip wiggled and he buried his face in the smooth fabric that covered the Briton's lower body.

Arthur held the child's shoulders as he knelt down to his level. Staring into blue orbs that were now looking watery and doleful, he couldn't believe that an ancient being, one that took care of him, his brothers, that he himself had taken care of when he was younger, was inhabiting that tiny body. It scared him.

What did Azrael know about him? What was their relationship like for Arthur not to remember?

Maybe that was why their relationship was so awful once he, America, had declared independence...

Maybe there was a reason from back then...

His eyes widened.

"England?" Alfred was kind of scared. Arthur's grip on him had gotten tighter and... "England,

"Why are you crying?"

"I don't remember."

France inquired softly, reminding the American and Briton that the others were still there in the sitting room with them, "What don't you remember, Arthur?"

"Everything..." He shook a bit and brought Alfred close to him.

"I can't remember you raising me, or much of me raising you... The time after that... I remember waking up in the '70s and all of a sudden... I remember everything until..."

"Until when, England?" Canada asked, worried and anxious.

"_Canada... Don't..."_

"_What..."_

"_I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."_

"A week before we came here..."

Memory loss?

It happened to countries, no doubt...

But to lose that much of your memory...

How could England handle that?

A week before they came.

"England-san, you don't remember before we came?" England looked up to Japan, tears mostly gone off his face, but still in his eyes somehow.

There was something that he had to remember from a week ago.

"_England, please!"_

"_Leave him alone!"_

What was it?

"I don't. Not the week before we came."

Alfred suddenly grabbed the former empire. "Don't!" He couldn't let him know.

"America!" England was shocked. What the-

"Don't remember that!" The child's tears flowed again. Of all things, he didn't want England to remember that. It would make him cry, sob, scream, kick...

It would make him hate America.

The talk ended shortly after.

* * *

><p>England lay in bed that night, moonlight on his face due to the angle of the blinds on the window.<p>

He could hear some of America's faeries.

"_Toh-ta...yinaldzid..."_

"_Yes... Help him?"_

"_..."_

What did America not want him to know?

Suddenly, he saw red.

"**Hello, England."**

And blue.

And white.

England felt so much like vomiting.

America stood there, at the foot of the bed. His America. Not the little one. The one he raised with his blood and tears.

He wore his uniform of independence.

"**England... Why are you here?"**

It hurt.

"Why do you think I'm here, you idiot?" Arthur whispered. "I'm here to take care of the new you-"

"**Liar."**

Chills went up and down his spine. He couldn't lie to this America. Not the one he cared for most, but then again...

"I don't need to lie-"

"**LIAR."**

Blue eyes stared into his and he wondered how he moved so quickly.

"**You just want to see me. To take me back."**

To have his little brother back?

"No, I-"

The apparition held his face in his hands, making Arthur shiver. He wasn't cold, but he could feel something on his skin tingle. It was not flesh that he felt.

"**Liar. You left me alone. All alone."** The ghost had tears going down his face and Arthur's face matched his. **"Just leave."**

"What?"

"**Leave. I do not want you here." **The tears came faster and Arthur felt more ice in his blood.

Something was-

"**It watches us."**

A black mass appeared behind America. Its eyes were red, figure like a cloud.

"**I will give you a blessing, a Notion's Kiss, to keep you safe."**

England nodded.

So red...

He felt his lips meet lips as this younger looking America kissed him. He felt himself be filled by something.

Something he wanted to keep safe.

It was his.

It was wet and warm and his body took it in deeply.

Looking at America's eyes when the blue-eyed blond pulled away, he made a resolution.

He got up soon after the sun began to rise and called for some of his fae and spirits.

They would care for America, the current one.

The countries left the next day, America hugging England many times before letting him go.

He promised to come back, after a quick job.

England would recover and keep his memories.

He would find out by the America from back then, his blue uniform so elegant, cried so much that night.

* * *

><p>13 January 2012 – 8:06 PM<p>

1) Avg. Height of an 9-year-old American is about 45 in. which is 1.143 meters.

2) The song is called "Comme des enfants" (Like children) by the Canadian Coeur de Pirate (Pirate Heart)

3) Iron Maiden – Used during the Inquisition, the Iron Maiden is like a large coffin (standing) with spikes lining the inside. Prolonged exposure (to my knowledge) would lead to infected wounds and exposure to syphilis, _yersinia pestis_ (plague), and other diseases. It was used during the Inquisition, like other torture devices, to drive out confessions of infidels, witches, and other heathens to try and bring their souls to the salvation of the Catholic Church.

Scary...

4) Yes, this whole being held for years without movement would lead to severe complications, such as juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, frailty, a weakened immune system, muscle atrophy, and other such things, but then again, this is fanfiction and magic is running amok in it.

5) I just finished my psychology class and I remember we talked about the case of Genie, a girl that had been restrained to a potty-chair and pet cage her entire life. She had severe atrophy and could not speak. After being taken by social services, she was cared for and educated. Even in her twenties, she only had the English of a child.

The mind is fascinating...

6) Alba – Scotland, Cymru – Wales, Eire – Ireland. Azrael played an important role in the raising of all of the British nations, as well as Ireland. England has just learned about this, but these three play a big part

7) America knows something.

8) Toh-ta yinaldzid – Diné (Navajo) – England is scared. I do not speak Diné (though it would be so awesome) so if anyone knows how to speak it, could someone correct me please?

Toh-ta – Used by the Navajo Code breakers as the name for England. It means "between waters."

Read and Review.


	3. PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

**THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT. (Bolded because it's important)**

A lot of authors have been taken off of fanfiction(.)net. The main reason the site is doing this is because, to their reasoning, these authors write stories well beyond the M-rating.

Problems with this that I have:

1) Adult Fanfiction (.) net always deletes my stories, so I can't do anything about it.

2) It's not my fault if some little kid (10-12) decides to read stuff that has been rated too high for them. They shouldn't be reading it, but that doesn't mean they won't.

3) I liked those "too high over the scale" M-rated fics. They were well written. If we have to take them off because of some sexual content, shouldn't everything be taken off the site? Well, not everything, but A LOT of it.

For this, I have decided not to write fics on here anymore. I'm moving it all to my tumblr and my livejournal.

unchangeablexangel (.) tumblr (.) com

jisatsu-tenshi (.) livejournal (.) com

I just wanted to let everyone know, and I don't want my stuff to be deleted for good. I've learned how to write on this site, but if it will take my stuff off, then I'm leaving.

Thank you.

**- Yamino Tenshi 202**


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